“Yes; you just put some milk with the eggs and stir them all up nice and messy with a silver knife,” replied Harry. “You’ll have to bring your own knife,” laughed Roy. “We’ll use tin ones, I guess. As for me, though, I have to have my eggs in an omelet, Harry. How are you at omelets?” Harry looked troubled, failing to see the smile which quivered around the corners of Roy’s mouth. “I--I’m afraid I can’t make an omelet, Roy,” she said dejectedly. “You see, they always get burned on the bottom; and then I never can flop them over. You know they have to be flopped over?” Roy nodded sympathetically. “I always flop them before I cook them,” said Chub sententiously. “How can you?” asked Harry, indignantly. “I never heard of anything so--so--” “Why, you--er--you seize the egg between the thumb and first finger,” answered Chub, frowning intensely as though striving to recollect the process. “Then you slowly exert sufficient pressure to choke it to death. When nicely choked--” Just here Dick pushed him off the steps. “Isn’t he the silliest thing?” asked Harry. And then, returning to the subject of omelets: “But I could get mama to show me how, Roy.” “What I want to know is,” said Chub as he crawled back up the steps, “is where all the eggs are coming from. I can eat three myself when I’m in camp, and you know what an appetite Dickums has!” “We’ll hire a hen,” suggested Roy. “We have lots of eggs,” said Harry. “I’ll bring some over every morning.” “And a few doughnuts,” begged Chub. “That’s the ideal breakfast: three or four fried eggs, and half a dozen doughnuts, and a cup of coffee. Um-m! Gee, fellows, I wish my dad would say yes!” “Maybe he will. Let’s throw our thought on him,” said Roy. “You’d better not let him catch you at it,” said Chub with a grin. “Say, there goes Billy Warren. Let’s call him over and get him to show us his sunstroke.” “Thomas Eaton, you’re too foolish for anything, to-day!” declared Harry, severely. “And it’s mean of you to make fun of Billy. He feels terribly bad about losing the race.” “I’m not making fun of him,” denied Chub, indignantly. “The idea! Only if I had a sunstroke I’d be proud to show it around! I’d be pleased purple if fellows would ask me--” “I’ll bet a dollar that’s what’s the matter with you,” laughed Dick. “It’s affected your brain.” “Pretty smart sun if it found Chub’s brain,” added Roy. “Enjoy yourselves,” said Chub, cheerfully. “Get into the game, Harry; find your little hammer! Here, there’s a monotony about this conversation that wearies me. I’m going out in the canoe. Anybody want to come along?” “Me!” cried Harry, jumping up. “You’d better not,” counseled Roy. “He will make you do all the work, Harry.” “Pay no attention to him,” said Chub to Harry, confidentially. “I hate to say it about a friend, Harry, but he’s never been the same since he made that two-bagger the other day. It’s affected his brain. Let us leave them to their own foolish devices.”